Lacinato Kale

Where Lacinato comes from

Lacinato is an Italian heirloom from Tuscany, where it's the 'cavolo nero' ('black cabbage') at the heart of ribollita and minestrone. Its documented history in Italy reaches back to at least the 18th century, and it was recorded in Thomas Jefferson's Monticello garden around 1777.

It reached wide US gardens in the 1980s when Renee Shepherd's seed company introduced it commercially, after which the 'dinosaur kale' nickname took off. The name 'Lacinato' comes from the deeply cut, laciniate look of the leaf — and you'll also see it as Tuscan kale, Nero di Toscana, black kale, or 'palm tree kale.'

The dinosaur look

You can spot Lacinato across a market: long, narrow, upright strap-shaped leaves — roughly 10 to 18 inches long and just 2 to 3 inches wide — in a very dark blue-green to near-black with a waxy, blue-spruce sheen. The surface is heavily blistered and puckered, the bumpy 'dinosaur skin' that gives it the name, and the margins are gently scalloped, not curled. That flat, uncurled leaf is the fastest way to tell it from curly kale.

The plant grows as a tall single stem, about 2 to 3 feet, that goes bare and palm-like as you strip the lower leaves — leaving a topknot of foliage, which is why it's also called 'palm tree kale.' One practical upside of the flatter leaf: it's much easier to see and rinse than the tight frizz of a curly type.

Tender enough for salad — but de-rib it

Lacinato's claim to fame is that it's the tender kale, the one you can eat raw. That's true of the blade: it's thin and relatively soft, which is why it's the standard for raw massaged kale salads, and it's sweeter and less bitter than curly kale to begin with. A few frosts make it sweeter still, as the plant turns starch to sugar.

But 'tender' has two honest asterisks. First, the thick central rib stays fibrous and chewy even after cooking, so you strip it out for salads and most dishes — the tenderness is the leaf, not the stem. Second, even the de-ribbed blade usually wants a massage with oil and salt to fully soften for raw eating. And the exception to all of it is heat: summer-grown leaves go bitter and leathery, which is why it genuinely peaks as a fall and cold-weather crop.

Growing Lacinato

It's a cool-season biennial grown as an annual. Direct-sow or start indoors 4–6 weeks before your last spring frost, or — for the best-tasting crop — sow in mid-to-late summer for fall and winter harvest. Thin or transplant to 12–18 inches apart in rows about 18–24 inches (as close as 4 inches only for baby-leaf cutting). Give it full sun, fertile soil rich in compost, and steady moisture, around 1 to 1.5 inches a week.

Harvest the lower, outer leaves first at hand-size and let the center keep growing — never take more than about a third of the plant at once. It's very cold-hardy: young plants shrug off around 25°F, mature plants take hard frost and keep going down to roughly 20°F, and every frost makes them sweeter. Quality drops above about 75°F. It's a heavy nitrogen feeder, so side-dress mid-season, and watch for the cabbage-family pests below.

What goes wrong — and the fixes

Cabbage worms, loopers, and diamondback-moth larvae chewing holes. Cover with floating row cover from transplanting, handpick, and spray Bt (Bacillus thuringiensis) for caterpillars. Cabbage aphids can cluster on the growing tip — blast with water and use insecticidal soap.

Tough, bitter, chewy leaves. Almost always heat or a missed rib. De-rib every leaf, pick younger outer leaves, and wait for frost to sweeten it — the fall crop is the good one.

It's a biennial, not the immortal 'perennial tree kale' some videos sell — an over-wintered plant bolts and flowers in its second spring and the leaves turn bitter and tough once flowering starts. And the tall, bare-stemmed, top-heavy plant can lean or flop late in the season; stake it if needed.

In the kitchen

Lacinato's traditional home is the Tuscan soup pot — ribollita, zuppa toscana, and minestrone — where the de-ribbed leaf holds up to long simmering. But its modern fame is raw: de-rib it, tear it, and massage the blade with oil, salt, and acid for a tender kale salad that doesn't fight you.

In between, the flat leaf crisps evenly into kale chips, takes a quick garlic braise or sauté as a side, and stirs into pasta, beans, risotto, and grain bowls. It's the most versatile kale in the kitchen — just remember the rib comes out first, and the sweetest leaves come after a frost.